Two Simple Words
by Tonya
Summary: Faith must face her guilt. (Faith/Wesley-ish)


Title: Two Simple Words

Author: Tonya (tigerlily1998@hotmail.com)

Disclaimer: Once upon a time, I owned Faith and Wesley and all was right in the world, then I woke up….

Rating: PG/PG-13

Spoilers: Basic Season 3 AtS

Feedback: Hello, my name is Tonya, and I am a feedback-aholic. Please feed my addiction.

Distribution: Just tell me where and we're kosher!

Summary: Faith's paroled, and it's time to face her guilt.

A/N: I wrote this as a stand-alone, but if time permits and my muse is inspired, I *may* expand on it.

**********

Assholes.

Between the three of them, they had ordered almost thirty dollars worth of food. She had delivered it to their table fairly quickly, considering the magnitude of their order and the slowness of the cooks on her shift. She had smiled as politely as she could and had checked on them periodically, just like she had been trained. And when the blond one had reached out and grabbed her ass, she had swallowed all her pride and instincts just so she wouldn't reach across the table and snap his arm in two. And what the hell did she get for her trouble?

Two damn dollars and a phone number scribbled on a napkin.

Faith gripped the napkin tightly in her hands and growled. How easy would it be to track down the asshole's address from the number? Just show up on his doorstep one night and beat the living shit out of him….

She ripped the napkin apart and tossed it onto one of the half-eaten plates. It'd be easy. It'd be _nice_, but she couldn't. They were watching her like a hawk. The minute she screwed up, her parole officer would come kicking in her apartment door and drag her back. And there was no way in hell she was going back. Especially over some prick who thought he could get in her pants with a measly two dollar tip.

Faith quickly bussed the table, clearing off the dirty dishes and wiping it down for the next customer. As she carried her tray back to the kitchen, she literally ran into Debbie as the redhead made her way out the swinging kitchen door.

"Hey, speedy, what's the rush?" Debbie grinned.

Faith smiled in response. "Thanks, Deb, for covering the rest of my shift."

"Hey, I needed the extra money," she shrugged. She leaned in close and mock-whispered, "Besides, you're the only one around here I like."

"Since that's the case, could you do me another favor?"

Debbie smirked and crossed her arms.

"Could you just drop these dishes off for me? I'm already late, and I need to tell Bobby I'm headed out the door."

Debbie rolled her eyes and retrieved the tray from Faith's hands. "Go. But remember you owe me _two_ favors now."

"Thanks."

She smiled and waved goodbye as Debbie disappeared into the kitchen. Faith briskly walked to the other side of the diner and through the swinging double doors that led back to the employee lounge. She made her way across the lounge, pulling off her apron, and opened Bobby's office door.

He looked up from his desk as Faith stared back at him from the doorway.

"Can I help you, Faith?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm out. Debbie's finishing off my shift."

Bobby sat back in his chair, a frown forming on his face. "Who gave you permission to switch shifts?"

She shrugged in response. "I did. I need the afternoon off and Debbie wanted hours so we switched."

"I make the schedule, not you. You can't just go around working whatever hours you want."

"Yeah, and _I_ told you that I had to be off every other Friday afternoon."

"I don't like your tone, Faith."

Faith crossed her arms. "Well, what are you gonna do? Fire me? I'm the best damn waitress in this little shithole, and I'm one of the few who will call you on your crap."

Bobby stared at her for a moment before a slight smirk formed on his face. "Gotta love spunk," he sighed.

Faith nodded and smiled. "I'm late so I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll make sure to mark your Friday request in my calendar," Bobby called to her as she walked away.

*********

"Sorry I was late," Faith mumbled as she settled back into the soft chair.

Dr. Patricia Daniels smiled brightly at Faith as she sat down across from her. Once seated, she casually crossed her legs and tapped her pen against her notebook.

"Life can get hectic sometimes," Dr. Daniels replied. "Can't always stay on the time schedule."

"Tell me about it," Faith frowned.

"So how have things been since the last time we talked?"

"Okay, I guess," Faith shrugged. "Work's a pain, my boss can be an ass, my apartment sucks, and I don't have a car. Just living the American dream."

"And how are you sleeping at night?" Dr. Daniels asked as she scribbled in her notebook. When Faith did not answer, she looked up the girl. "Faith?"

Faith remained silent.

Dr. Daniels sighed and sat back in her chair. "Faith, you and I both know that these therapy sessions are a requirement of your parole, but they're also here to _help _you. To help you get a better understanding of yourself." She paused and leaned forward. "You've opened up to me about the nightmares before, and I just want to know if they're getting better or worse."

Faith sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "Worse," she finally admitted.

"How so?"

"Well… well, at first, it was just me, you know. All I saw was me. The weapons. The fights. The blood on my hands…."

"And now?"

Faith grimaced. "Now I see faces. I see them. The people I…."

Faith stopped and Dr. Daniels nodded in understanding. "The people you murdered," she replied softly.

"Yeah, but… but the ones I tortured too. I see him a lot now. Wesley…."

"Your former mentor, correct?"

Faith nodded in response. "Yeah."

"So, the nightmares. They've escalated?"

"It's not like nightmares anymore. It's more like sitting a theater and watching my life story in surround sound."

"And what do you see in these dreams, Faith?"

Faith laughed bitterly. "What _don't_ I see? It's like I'm there again. Beating him and cutting him and just tormenting the hell out of him."

"And that makes you feel…?"

"Look, Dr. D, I don't care about that. What I care about is getting more than four hours of sleep every night. What I care about is just making them stop. So, prescribe me some drugs, hypnotize me, do whatever it is that you guys do. Just make them stop."

"It's not that simple, Faith. If it was I'd be out of a job, now wouldn't I?"

Faith groaned in response.

"Have you talked to Wesley since you've been out?" Dr. Daniels asked.

"Talked to him?" Faith scoffed loudly. "And say what? Yeah, Wes, sorry about that whole tying you to a kitchen chair and trying to kill you thing, but are we cool now?"

"Maybe not in those words _exactly_, but it would be a good place to start."

Faith rolled her eyes.

"Would you like to hear my opinion on these nightmares of yours?"

"You're gonna tell me anyway," Faith frowned.

Dr. Daniels ignored her with a gentle smirk. "I believe that the guilt of what you did has finally caught up to you. Your victims in your dreams were faceless before because the reality had not sunk in just yet. But now it has, and you're being haunted by your own guilt. Wesley appears to be the main subject in your recent nightmares because he was the victim you were closest to. He was your mentor, and you betrayed his trust in you on the highest of levels."

Faith simply frowned in response.

Dr. Daniels smiled slightly as she added, "Or as you might say, _you _feel like crap because you treated _him_ like crap."

"So," Faith replied as her frown faded slightly, "to stop the nightmares all I have to do is say I'm sorry?"

"It's a start. You obviously have unresolved issues with this man, and until you clear the air with him, you'll continue to be haunted by your own guilt. Thus, the nightmares will continue."

Faith sighed and crossed her arms. She settled back into the chair as she began, "But what if he…." She stopped herself with a frown.

"What if he what, Faith?"

"What if… what if he tells me go to fuck myself," she frowned as she wrapped her arms even tighter together. "What if he doesn't want to hear my apology, you know? What then?"

"Well, _then_ you'll have to respect his decision. He has every right to dismiss your apology, but whether or not he accepts your apology is not the important part. The important part is that you apologize."

Dr. Daniels smiled softly at Faith, but Faith could only frown in response.

**********

Faith pulled at the ragged edge of the notebook paper, dropping the little paper tags to her carpet. Sitting in her living room, the lamp by the arm of the couch the only light on in the apartment, she stared down at her own messy cursive writing.

She had had the address for about a month now, had scribbled it out of a phonebook at the diner. At the time, she hadn't been sure why she had searched for the address, nonetheless why she had written it down. Maybe she had seen his face the night before in her dreams, and in order to escape thoughts of him, she had taken down his address. Tricked herself into thinking that she would go to see him.

A month.

Since then, the paper had been folded and propped up near her alarm clock. A reminder every time she opened her eyes to hit her snooze alarm. Reminding herself that Wesley wasn't just some face in her dreams; he was also a face in her life. A face that she could run into at any moment. A face, that sooner or later, she would have to apologize to….

In prison, she had written a handful of "I'm sorry, Wes" letters, but none of them had even made it out of her cell. She had ripped each to shreds before the ink had even fully dried. 

Since her release, she had been practicing the speech in her head. It had almost become part of her morning ritual. Shower, brush her teeth, dry her hair, practice her speech in the mirror, grab an untoasted Pop-tart, and head out to work. Somehow, she had convinced herself that if she had the speech ready in her head, she'd be prepared for any chance encounter they had on the street. But she had been lying to herself….

And sitting on her couch, staring at his address, only proved it. No matter how many times she practiced in her head, she knew it wouldn't come out right. She knew the words would slip from her tongue, that her mind would go blank….

But sooner or later, she would have to see him, and she would have to say those two simple words.

Faith glanced at her watch. Midnight.

Sooner or later.

**********

Wesley stared up at the ceiling and sighed.

He wasn't sure when it had gotten to this point, and it bothered him. Greatly.

It had never been like this before. They would do their thing, and she would leave. He'd deliver some snide remark as she dressed, and she would shrug it off with a snide remark of her own. Then, with a passing sarcastic comment, she'd be out the door, not returning until they both felt the need again.

There had been no lingering around. There had been no goodbye kisses. There had definitely been none of this.

Wesley looked over at Lilah who slept peacefully beside him.

When the hell had it gotten to this point?

A knock at the apartment door pulled him from his thoughts.

Wesley glanced at his alarm clock with a frown and pulled himself from the bed. He grabbed his jeans from off the floor and pulled them on before making his way down the hallway.

He opened the apartment door slightly and a shocked laugh slipped by his lips.

Faith stood at his doorstep, her thumbs hooked through the belt loops of her hip-hugger jeans. He gave her a once-over as she did the same to him. Even with the longer, wavier hair and the faint scent of raspberry lotion that wafted off of her, he could recognize the Slayer, _his _Slayer, anywhere.

Finally, a playful smile formed on her lips. "Hey, Wesley."

"Faith, when did you…?"

"Two months ago."

Wesley could only stare at her, not quite sure what to make of her showing up on his doorstep.

"Look, I know it's late," she began with a deep sigh, "but I just wanted to…."

Wesley watched as her eyes traced the scar on his neck before she turned her deep browns back to his own eyes.

"What happened to you?"

"Cut myself shaving," he replied gruffly.

"Fair enough," she said with a shrug. "Um, I'm just gonna say this because…. Well, because I need to. I'm sorry."

Wesley held in his shocked laughter. This had to be a dream. Only in a dream would this make sense. That he would be alienated from his true friends, and yet the woman who tried to kill him would be apologizing for her actions.

"I've had this big speech prepared, but…. But I should just get to the point, shouldn't I? I'm sorry for what I did to you. The whole tying you to a chair thing."

"And the beating and burning and cutting?"

"Yeah, that too." She paused with a shrug of her shoulders. "I'll completely understand if you tell me to shove my apology. I kinda deserve that, but I just wanted to get that out there."

"Faith, I don't know what to say…."

"You don't have to. I just wanted to tell you, that's all." She smiled sheepishly as she added, "Maybe I should apologize for the getting you out of the bed for a lame-ass apology, huh?"

Wesley simply smirked in response.

"Well, um, maybe I'll see you around or something…."

"Maybe," Wesley began.

"Wes, who are you talking to?" 

Wesley turned to see Lilah peeking out of the bedroom doorway.

"One of your little Angel Investigations friends asking for a favor?" she continued.

"No, it was just…." He stopped as he turned back to the now-empty hallway. He stepped into the hallway, looking in both directions in vain. Faith had already disappeared into the night, her raspberry scent lingering behind.

"It was nobody," Wesley frowned ruefully and stepped back into the apartment.


End file.
